Magda shook her head. “No apology needed,” she said, and she was genuine as well. “To be honest, it was the best thing you ever did for me.” She smiled again. “And perhaps for yourself as well.”
A tiny smile teased the corners of his lips once more, despite his best efforts at attempting to maintain a neutral frown. He had not told Magdalena about his feelings for Remy, but there was a chance he was not as good at concealing his feelings for the girl as he had hoped. And, for some inexplicable reason, that was okay with him. It was all right that Magda knew. He trusted her more than he trusted anyone else and it felt good to not have to bear this burden alone.
“Perhaps,” he allowed.
Twelve
His hands start to undo the lace of her corset. Somehow, they’re skilled and nimble. He probably has lots of experience undressing beautiful women. She doesn’t want to think about those who came before. Before doesn’t matter. What matters is now. This moment between them. Together.
Her heart beats erratically. It doesn’t keep time like the steady beat of a drum. No. This is more like the rolling waves of the sea in a storm – choppy, jumpy, dangerous. She’s nervous. It’s hard to breathe. There’s a sharp pain in her stomach due to the hummingbirds – not butterflies; butterflies are too soft and gentle for how she’s currently feeling – crashing into her stomach. Every nerve in her body is on high alert and when his finger accidentally brushes her spine, she realizes his skin is magnetized, shooting sparks to her so they can dance in her orbit. She feels too much.
This is too much to take.
But she doesn’t stop him. There’s no way in Neverland she would ever stop him.
She doesn’t know what she’s doing, but that’s okay because he does, he knows what to do and he’ll be patient with her. He’ll teach her about herself and him, and when they finish, she’ll have knowledge gained by through experience.
She wants it. She wants it with him so bad.
He finally finishes untying her corset. Before she realizes what he’s doing, he rips the corset apart and lets the damaged material fall in scraps to the floor. She makes a grunt of protest – Ladies do not grunt! her mother’s French voice reminds her, but Remy can’t hear her mother. Not anymore. Not when she’s made her choice. Not when she knows what she wants – and he laughs whispering promises of more, more, he’ll get her as many corsets as she wants just as long as she allows him to rip them off of her.
His words cause a painful throb in the base of her core, and she shudders. His grip on her is strong, however, and though she feels like she could very well lose her balance due to the weakness in her knees, she feels safe in his hands where she knows he won’t let her fall.
He turns her around, his hands on her shoulders. She has to crane her neck up to look him in the eyes. They’re clear and blue, like the sky. The neverending sky. She doesn’t think she can stop staring if she tries.
God, he’s so beautiful.
Too beautiful to be from earth.
He’s otherworldly. Angelic in a masculine way. Even those things can’t describe him properly. She doesn’t know how else to say it. Maybe that’s okay. James Hook is not a man that can be labeled so easily.
He looks back at her, his eyes darkening with a hunger Remy does not recognize but is not afraid of. The look makes her swallow and he watches her throat bob with feral intensity that Remy shudders once again. She wants to be angry at her body for being so weak, so obvious, but she can’t find the energy to dedicate to unneeded emotions.
His hands are free to roam her exposed skin. She’s both confident and afraid. Vulnerable and strong. She does not understand the conflicting emotions, but she feels her heart. It’s still beating. She’s still alive. She’s okay. Instead of touching her, however, he removes her transparent slip. He’s gentle this time, sliding it up over her head and tossing it to the floor. She does not watch it land. Now, she is naked. Now, she’s completely undone.
He still does not touch her. Instead, he looks at her with an intensity she has never seen before. Not from Nick. Not from either of her parents. It’s something she is not familiar with, and yet something she wants to claim. She likes it. She likes it.
“You’re a masterpiece,” he finally tells her. “A masterpiece I can touch, I can smell, I can taste, I can breathe. You’re overwhelming and yet, I find…” His eyes trace every curve, every single piece of skin he can see, like he’s trying to touch her with his sight, brand her with his eyes. “I am not satisfied even if I saw you this way for the rest of my forever. I would not be used to you. I would always want you.”
Remy swallows. She does not know what to say. Her lips tremble, but her body moves without her knowledge, without her say so. Her fingers wrap around his right wrist and she brings his only hand to her mouth where then she kisses each fingertip gently, a caressing gesture. Her eyes roll back as she does so and even in her light grip on his wrist, she can feel him tremble under her grasp.
How does she have such power over him when he makes her feel so powerless?
When she finishes his four fingers and one thumb, she brings her hand and places it on her heart. His pinky hovers on the round curve of her breast and his thumb twitches against the other, but somehow, he resists temptation and focuses on simply maintaining his touch against her chest.
“Your heart,” he says.
She shakes her head. “Your heart,” she corrects, her voice firm. “I am alive for you.”
It’s her words that undo him so completely. He cannot contain himself any longer. He lunges for her, claiming her lips. His hand has begun to explore her body thoroughly while his hook is placed carefully against her waist, the cool feel of it the sole reminder that he is different, that he is not completely whole.
He causes her to make noises she’s never heard come from herself before, noises that seem to inspire him to continue his ministrations on her helpless body. She encourages him without knowing she’s encouraging him, and that reassurance allows her to relax and trust her body’s natural instincts. To trust him.
She never spoke about sex with her mother. She knew it was a topic they would have conversed about before her marriage, but there was no time to do so before Remy left, before she ended up here. As such, she had no idea what to expect. No idea what her job was and how to do her job. All she had was James in control and her body guiding her to react without overthinking, without previous experience to draw from.
She need not have worried.
He takes care of everything. He is gentle and patient, whispering words of love and sexuality, of encouragement and sweetness. He makes her feel things she has never felt before, never thinks she can feel before, and wants to feel again. And again. But only with him.
Pleasure takes on a new meaning. Connection, intimacy, love. When their bodies connect, she feels whole. She does not understand that, exactly, because she has always felt content in her own body. Somehow, he makes her feel more.
It’s not just pleasure, however. Upon connecting, there’s a flash of hurt. A rush of blood. Some pain that is managed and coaxed away by his lips, by his words. Until soon, the pain turns into pleasure.
She does not explode around him. Does not see stars. He tells her this sort of intimacy is not like the novels make it out to be, but he intends to show her what it means, how it feels. For now, he wants to be with her, inside of her, and they have all the time in the world, so why not explore?
His fingers find her most private spot, and it’s only when they find a rhythm, they put just the right amount of preassure on her, when she feels her eyes roll back on their own accord, her hips buck up to meet his thrusts, giving him greater access to her very core, when she finally sees stars, when she finally loses consciousness to the world around her and there’s only this moment. No thoughts swim in her head. For once in her life, she’s focused solely on one thing and it’s feeling, it’s pleasure, it’s being in this moment with him and only him.
It isn’t lo
ng before Hook experiences his own release, and by the time he’s finished, they’re clinging together, sweating, glistening, breathing heavy. Her skin is flushed – she does not need a mirror to know such a thing – but she does not care that her complexion is both red and splotchy, that her skin is filled with moisture, that she can’t seem to catch her breath, though she tries.
All that matters is James. All that matters is her love for him.
And what they just did was explore that love from a physical aspect. And it was life-altering. It was bliss and contentment and passion and tenderness, and she wants nothing more than to do it again. Because he can tell her he loves her as much as he wants, but in this way, he shows her, and he makes her feel it.
“Well?” he asks, once he’s slipped out of her. He lies on his side, his elbow propped up, resting his head in his palm. His crystal blue eyes are on her and only her, sculpting her face, tracing her curves. His free hand is on her hips, caressing mindless patterns into her skin.
Remy feels her cheeks burn as her eyelashes flutter. She forces herself to look at him, however, when she says, “I want to do it again.”
Remy’s eyes snapped open, only to take in an empty bed and darkness. She pressed her lips together to keep from letting out a frustrated growl. She was not with James. She was by herself in a grand bedroom in a mansion waiting for him to arrive. The Masquerade was tonight. She would see James tonight. Everything would be resolved tonight.
Twelve hours had never felt longer in her life.
Except, nothing was resolved, was it? She knew she wanted to be with James but it did not answer her question of whether she wanted to return to earth or not. And, there was a good chance that that would be an issue if she wanted to be with James since James was dead. She still did not understand the laws that permeated this place, but she was quite certain James could not leave since he was dead.
But what about Peter? a voice said in her head. Didn’t he die? Yet, he’s able to travel freely throughout each realm – including earth – without those same principles applying to him, if Pam is to be believed. What makes him different? What makes him special?
Remy bit her bottom lip. She did not think Pam would lie about this. There was no reason for her to. Peter recruited living souls from earth and brought them to The Neverland, for what? She did not know. But The Magistrate underestimated him. He supposedly worked for her but Remy had a feeling he had his own agenda, especially since he had originally partnered with James.
What he did to her…
Remy flinched, just thinking about it. She still had nightmares, truth be told. She still had scars that would linger on her body and remind her she was not the same person.
She needed to find out what made Peter special. Perhaps then, she would be able to deduce his weakness.
If she was able to solve why Peter was Peter, maybe she could acquire the same ability – travel through each realm, even though she was alive. Even though she should not be able to. Maybe James would be able to leave and come to earth with her. Maybe they could marry and have children and –
Even as she thought it, she knew such a life was impossible. Even if James was able to travel to earth, there was a good chance he might not want to, not even for her. He was already ruler of The Other World, and depending on what The Creator said tonight, he might acquire power over all three realms. Power was what James wanted. It was why he had taken her hostage; it was why he wanted to use her in the same way The Magistrate did. He would not give that up, not for her.
And, to be honest, Remy did not expect him to. She made peace with that and did not take it personally.
What she wanted to figure out was how to compromise, how to have the best of both worlds. And she honestly believed Peter was the key to deciphering just how to go about attaining that.
It was the sole reason why she told The Magistrate she would take over Nick’s position as ferry, why Remy would choose to work for the wretched, cunning woman. She wanted information and the only way she could get information was through Peter himself. The problem was, Remy did not trust him. Which was why she made it part of her bargain with The Magistrate for complete honesty. Remy did not think The Magistrate was a witch, but certainly the woman knew how to compel honesty from someone.
Then, once she had her answer, Peter would be forced to work for James. He would not be able to betray him, not if Peter swore loyalty. She still did not quite understand how The Neverland worked – she might never understand it – but there was something about blood oaths that brought out magic, that brought out a promise to this world that things would be delivered as stated. It did not appear anyone could go against their blood oath, even if they made it under duress. Which was why these oaths were made with extra thought, with careful precision.
Remy also knew that The Magistrate expected a blood oath from her as well. And Remy was willing to give it to her, once Peter told her everything she needed to know, after Peter swore his loyalty to James. Then, she would take over Nick’s position.
What Remy needed to do in the time until that moment was to work out how, exactly, she would make her promise. If she was able to choose her words, she would need to choose them carefully because she might be able to leave herself a loophole if she was clever about it. She was not sure how it would work, how everything would play out, but it was imperative that she prepare herself.
She was going into battle and she needed to get her armor.
Thirteen
They docked at the Isle de Paradiso in three days. Magdalena stood on deck as James eased the ship to its proper dock. The anchor was cast overboard, a long boat was prepared, and soon, the majority of the crew was on the smaller vessel, heading for the shore. A waiting party stood on the wooden deck, looking out at them. Magda placed her palm on the small blade that rested at her hip, in a place no one knew about save for her, and she felt reassured that should an attack break out, she had proper tools to defend herself.
"Do you see our hostess?" Nick asked James with a cocked head and crossed arms over his burly chest.
James shook his head, remaining silent. Magda could tell he was searching for someone, his blue eyes almost desperate - which was one of the last words she would ever use to describe her captain. Magda wanted to reach out and reassure him, wanted to tell him that they would find Remy and that she would be all right, but she held back. She didn't want to embarrass him; she didn't want to show him any sort of affection in front of other people. She had too much respect for him to do that. Instead, she promised herself and she made an internal vow to James that she would help him rescue Remy in any way she could.
"She wouldn't be out here," James finally said when he realized Remy was not there. He looked over at Nick and Magda could see a flash of disappointment in the blue irises but it vanished almost as quickly as it had come. "If anything, she's putting final touches on the house to make sure it looks perfect." He rolled his eyes. "She puts too much care in appearances and not enough in strategy."
"If we're right outside The Paradise," Magda said, "why is she our hostess and not The Creator?"
"Because the Isla de Paradiso is still technically in The Neverland's jurisdiction," James explained. "Which means she hosts it. It's almost neutral. It's not like we're meeting in The Other World or in The Paradise; we're meeting in The Neverland, that in between place souls reside until they're ready to move on."
"Yes, but The Magistrate is at her best in her own domain," Nick pointed out, his brown eyes narrowed and his jaw locked. "We still need to be on our guard."
"This is The Neverland," James said. "One should always be on their guard in The Neverland."
Magda pressed her lips together and glanced at Nick from the corner of her eye. His gaze remained forward at the party, his entire body rigid and filled with tension. He did not know what to expect, therefore he was on his guard. She could understand.
To be honest, Magda never concerned herself much when James when to these annua
l summits. He always returned in one piece, with a fresh plan on how to overthrow The Magistrate and nothing new on how to renovate The Other World. She did not know if that was because James’s focus wasn’t prioritizing what should be prioritized, but he returned reinvigorated and frustrated up until the point where he enacted the changes he wanted, nothing changed, and then he forgot about it until the next year.
James was quick to plan against The Magistrate, quick to hate her and critique her, and to curse her under his breath. Magda did not understand why and would never question her captain in order to find out. However, now she knew. Now she understood.
This woman was a callus on the palm of The Neverland, organizing and structuring things the way she thought they should be rather than leave things as they were. Every action, every choice, was a reflection on her goals. Decisions benefited her or they were not made. The Neverland was not a place for souls any longer; it was a place for her and only her to do with as she would. The souls were her pawn on this big board of chess, and she, the ever-powerful queen.
Now, Remy was swept up in her madness, and James had to tread carefully if he ever wanted her back. Magda did not quite understand the usage of Remy; she knew Remy drew souls because she was a Breather, and the more souls a place possessed, the more powerful it could possibly be. But an overpopulation of souls was also a bad thing. Souls who were ready to pass on regardless of which way staying in The Neverland meant more food, more water, a roof over their head on top of the souls that were not quite there to depart. It meant a lack of population in The Other World and The Paradise, limited resources, crowded seas, The Alley would be crowded to the point where souls might start waiting in the sea before Nick – or whoever it was ferrying them – would be able to pick them up.
Life in Neverland: Book 3 of The Neverland Trilogy Page 9
